Searching For
by crazyundeadfairy
Summary: Continues from where From Within leaves off. A different ending to Prince Caspian. P/C slash.


**Searching For**

All that remained of the wall of ice was a faint discolouration on the flagstones as they continued to dry. The flames still flickered high, warming him as he stepped closer to it. Closer to the large relief carving of Aslan that dominated the far wall. Its eyes seemed to move in the fluttering light, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

"Have you given any thought to the consequences of what you do?"

Peter spun around and watched as Aslan stepped out of the shadows near the entrance. He automatically dropped to his knees, bowing his head.

"There's no need for that, Peter. Rise," Aslan instructed as he padded closer.

"I'm not quite sure what it is you're talking about," Peter said uneasily as he rose to his feet. "What is it that I'm to have done?"

Aslan crossed the remaining distance between them on silent feet. "It is what you and young Caspian are doing."

"I didn't realize there was any harm in what we did during our private hours," Peter said, squaring his shoulders.

"The actions of a king always bear a consequence."

"Then I'll deal with those consequences when they become an issue," Peter said with as much conviction as he could must in the face of Aslan's obvious disapproval. "For now, there are more important things that require attention."

"And in times of peace? When Caspian requires a queen to establish his line?" Aslan prodded, causing Peter to tense. "These are things that cannot be ignored."

Peter turned his head away, having no response to give. He didn't want to think about such things. They were still too distant and too uncertain. There was no telling what the coming battle would bring.

"Peter!"

With a gasp, Peter jerked awake. He held his body rigid while he reoriented himself to his surroundings. He wasn't in the How's main chamber, but instead in a small room off to one side. Secluded and quiet, save for his own harsh pants. Peter squeezed his eyes shut tight and turned into Caspian's touch as the other man smoothed his fingers through his hair.

"Are you all right?" Caspian murmured, his lips moving against Peter's forehead as he spoke.

Realizing that he was lying half on top of the Telmarine, who was trying to rise, Peter began a shuffling attempt to sit up. "Sorry," he mumbled. He tried to move away, but Caspian grabbed hold of his arm, stalling him. Caspian's other hand went up to frame his cheek as he quickly sat up as well.

"Peter, what is it? What's happened?"

"I, um.... It's nothing," Peter sighed, placing a hand over Caspian's on his cheek. "Bad dreams."

Caspian's lips were soft and warm against his own, chasing away the linger chill of Aslan's words. He moaned softly, shifting closer and sinking the fingers of his left hand into Caspian's hair. The dream had left him feeling cold all the way through. Peter wanted instead the heat that infused every bit of him when he was with Caspian.

"Your majesties!" Reepicheep called from somewhere beyond their room.

With a reluctant groan, Peter leaned back, ending the kiss. "Yes, Reepicheep?"

"There's something out here your majesties need to see."

"We'll be there momentarily," Peter assured the mouse.

For several moments neither he nor Caspian moved. Spartan and chill though it was, neither truly wanted to leave the sanctuary of their quarters. Beyond the door lay all the business of leading an army; difficult decisions that no one truly wanted to make, but were unavoidable. Their own personal wants and desires were only secondary. Narnia came first.

The sword that Peter belted at his waist was a Telmarine blade. It felt awkward not to have his own sword hanging at his hip. For fifteen years he had ridden into battle with Rhindon at his side and without it he felt almost naked.

"We'll get it back," Caspian said, his hand lightly running up and down Peter's forearm.

Peter's lips twisted in a slightly forlorn smile. "I shouldn't care so much about a sword, I know, but after so long...."

Caspian's lips lightly kissed the mocking smile from his own. "There is no need to explain."

Shaking his head to banish his gloomy thoughts, Peter forced his mind back to their current situation. There was much to do if they stood a chance of defeating Miraz and his army. The How wasn't a battleground Peter would have chosen—too much magic hung about the place—but as a stronghold it did give them a chance. Nothing was ever completely hopeless.

The two of them hurried through the torch lit corridors up towards one of the higher balconies. Halfway up the hill, it offered the best vantage point to see the surrounding glade. By the time they arrived, all of the Narnia high command was there waiting for them. What they saw there filled Peter with dread.

Miraz' army was advancing on them through the trees, completely with machines. The large trebuchets were the most frightening.

"I think we need a plan," Edmund said, his gaze not wavering from the treeline. "A good one."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Haven't enough people died already?" Trumpkin pleaded with Lucy, but it was clear that his words were directed at all of them.

At him and Peter in particular. So Caspian felt duty bound to offer an alternative that would spare as many lives as possible. It would place only one of them in extreme danger, but the rest of the Narnians would be safe.

"There is one way that may buy us the time we need," Caspian spoke up from the edge of the main chamber. "Miraz is bound by the laws of our people. To disregard them would mean that he would lose face before his men."

Peter's eyes were on him immediately. "How?"

"Either you or myself challenge him to single combat."

There was a strange expression on Peter's face, but it was gone too quickly for him to decipher it. Caspian expected that it would take some time to learn the language of Peter's subtle expressions. He only hoped to be allowed the time to do so.

"Then we do that," Peter said with a definitive nod of his head. "I'll challenge Miraz to a duel and while we fight, Lucy and Susan can sneak out the back way."

"Peter, no!" Susan immediately protested.

The set of Peter's shoulders tensed. "Susan, this is the only option we have. We can't just sit back and hope that Miraz won't attack before you find Aslan. You need time and I can give that to you."

Though Peter never raised his voice or even seemed to appear put out, his frustration with his sister was obvious. She contradicted him and spoke against him at every turn, but he continued to be calm and rational about it all. He had chosen his course of action and would not be put off. Caspian only wished that such an action didn't fill him with such dread. He'd seen Peter fight and knew that his skill with a sword was excellent. Far better than Miraz, he was certain. However, Miraz wouldn't hesitate to use some trick or deceit if he believed things were going against him.

So while Peter, Trumpkin, and Cornelius went about constructing the challenge, Caspian wandered towards the large relief statue of Aslan. He was certain that if anyone could keep Peter safe, it would be the Great Lion. After all, Peter would be fighting in his name on behalf of all Narnia.

"Aslan won't let anything happen to Peter."

Caspian glanced down, offering a small smile for Lucy as she approached him. "You sound certain."

"Because I am. We're doing what has to be done to save Narnia," Lucy rationalized with utter conviction.

"What of the night of the raid? When Peter was taken?" he questioned, doing his best to banish the fear those memories stirred in his heart. "Peter was nearly lost to us then."

Lucy's smile showed a hint of the woman she had once been. "That's the night you found Peter. And he found you. He wasn't lost."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Don't take any risks," Peter said as he signed his name to the bottom of the letter. He quickly rolled the parchment up and gave it to Edmund with a stern look. "Don't antagonize Miraz."

Edmund grinned broadly, saluting Peter with the letter. "You worry too much, Pete."

With a nod to Glenstorm, Edmund retreated from the main chamber of the How. There was no calling back the letter. Provided Miraz accepted his challenge, he would soon face the impostor king in a duel. Peter did not doubt his fighting ability. He knew that he was capable of defeating Miraz. What concerned him instead was that he 'd be going into the fight without his own sword and that even if he won, the Narnians may still be in danger.

A hand came to rest in the middle of his back, stroking lightly. "Glozelle and the other generals will not allow Miraz to harm someone who comes under the flag of peace."

Peter nodded and released a breath in a quiet huff. "I would've gone myself if I thought there was any chance of me leaving that tent alive."

"If you persist with this defeatist attitude, I will have Trufflehunter sit on you and face Miraz myself," Caspian said, his hand moving up to squeeze Peter's shoulder. The same hand slid over Peter's shoulder and along his chest. Caspian placed his left hand on Peter's waist and stepped forward so that they stood back to chest, with Caspian's chin resting lightly on his shoulder. "I do not want you to die so that we can defeat Miraz. I want you alive when this is over. I want us to ride side by side through the city and make plans to rebuild Cair Paravel."

Peter leaned back into Caspian's embrace, his head resting against the other man's. "I want that to happen, too. I hope it will."

"Then focus your thoughts on that when your doubts creep up again," Caspian instructed.

As much as he wished to stay in the moment, Peter was aware of all that needed to be done. There were plans to finalize in case the duel failed before Aslan's possible return. He simply couldn't risk the lives of all the Narnians encamped at the How on the chance that Aslan would return. Peter wanted to have Lucy's faith, but simply couldn't muster it. He knew that they'd have to rely on their own abilities this time around.

"I need armour," Peter said as he reluctantly moved away from Caspian. "Mine's back in the treasure room of Cair Paravel, so I'll need to find something else."

Caspian's hand on his hip squeezed briefly. "Come. There's a stockpile of armour in one of the storage rooms. We'll find you something kingly."

Peter snorted, the tension momentarily fading. "As long as it's sturdy. I don't really need anything kingly."

"Just something to keep you safe," Caspian said quietly, his eyes holding Peter's.

xxxxxxxxxx

Edmund stood stock still, glaring at the man who'd imprisoned and tortured Peter. Who'd ordered the death of so many innocent Narnians. Who'd murdered his own brother and would gladly murder Caspian if it maintained his power. Most frustrating of all was the fact that he could do nothing. Having arrived under the white flag of peace, Edmund could do nothing but relay the terms Peter had set and negotiate them to a certain extent.

What made his task more difficult was the sight of Peter's sword displayed behind Miraz.

"That doesn't belong to you," Edmund said, nodding towards the sword.

Miraz didn't look away, his confident smirk only growing. "Oh, but it does. It's a spoil of this war, taken from a fallen enemy."

That time it was Edmund who smirked. "Hardly a fallen enemy. In fact, I come on behalf of High King Peter to challenge you to single combat."

"Well, princeling, the last I saw of—"

"It's king," Edmund interrupted him. "King Edmund, not prince. Peter's the High King, but I'm still a king of these lands. Unlike you."

"You dare insult me," Miraz growled, slamming his fist down on the table.

Edmund feigned innocence, thoroughly enjoying himself. "How is it an insult to state the truth? Peter was named High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Lord of Cair Paravel by Aslan himself. As for me, I'm King Edmund, Duke of the Lantern Waste, and Count of the Western March. As for this so-called Telmarine dynasty, I was under the impression that it's Caspian who's king now. Not you."

Edmund knew full well that he was being foolish, but as he'd been unable to do anything when his brother was taken, he found great pleasure in being able to ruffle Miraz's over-confidence.

"You tread upon very dangerous ground, boy," Miraz hissed, glaring at him.

Edmund's grin only widened and he spread his arms out. "Actually, I stand upon some of the most sacred land in Narnia. The woods and fields in this area are seeped in old magic."

"Superstitious nonsense," Miraz said, dismissing the notion immediately. "Get on with your terms. I don't have all day and you try my patience."

Edmund recited Peter's letter, enjoying the fury Miraz couldn't quite keep from his features. Worried as he was about the duel Peter and Caspian had decided was a good idea, he'd missed the rush of battle and everything that went with it. The war of words that came before had always been his particular favourite. It was also something he'd become quite good at during his years as king so long ago. They'd each had a role in times of war. Susan would stay behind at Cair Paravel to mind things. Lucy was their expert archer who'd care for the wounded. He'd do his best to bring things to a halt before a single sword was drawn. And when that failed it was left to Peter. Peter who was quick and resourceful and had led their army to so many victories. Peter was a skilled fighter and, after seeing Miraz, Edmund fully believed that Peter would defeat the Telmarine.

He had to believe it otherwise he'd be responsible for sending his brother to his death.

xxxxxxxxxx

The armoury in the How was nothing when compared to the one in the Telmarine castle, but it was serviceable. In it, they were able to find a chain mail shirt, thick leather jerkin and wrist guards. A full suit of chain mail would be too heavy for a duel, so for his lower body they chose a pair of iron greaves. It was hardly the royal armour that he'd grown up seeing in Professor Cornelius' illuminated manuscripts. Instead, he looked like a warrior.

"There. Sturdy and suitably unkingly," Caspian announced as he finished knotting the close of Peter's jerkin. "It suits you."

Peter smiled softly, bringing his hands up to clasp Caspian's. "Let's hope sturdy is enough."

Caspian leaned forward to press his lips to Peter's. Almost instantly, Peter's hands lifted to envelop his cheeks. There was desperation and fear in Peter's every movement. The way Peter clung to him, one hand dropping down to his waist to tug their bodies together. Caspian held on just as tight, sinking his left hand into Peter's hair and holding Peter's waist with his right.

"Let me fight this," Caspian pleaded, resting his forehead against Peter's. "Please, let me fight him."

Peter stepped back, shaking his head. "No. You are meant to bring peace to Narnia, not war. It's better that it's me. Don't forget, I've been doing this a lot longer than you have."

"That's hardly an excuse."

"Well that's the only answer you're getting."

Caspian pursed his lips, but remained silent. There was much that he wanted to say, only the words were so tumbled about in his head that he couldn't sort them out. While he knew that what they were doing was their best chance of success, he still wished that he'd kept silent. The duel had been his suggestion which made anything that followed partially his fault. He knew it to be true even if Peter would forever deny it.

Peter leaned in and pressed a last quick, firm kiss against his lips. "Go make certain that everything's ready with Lucy and Susan. I need to see Edmund about a few things."

"Even if I do not stand as one of your marshals, I will still be close by," Caspian promised, frustrated, but understanding, of Peter's choice of marshals. Edmund and Glenstorm were both accomplished fighters and the Bear's lineage earned him a place at the contest. He would not stand idly by, though. Caspian knew his uncle well enough to expect possible treacheries if things didn't go his way. It was those such things that he'd do all in his power to prevent.

Peter's lips strained in a mockery of a smile and then he was gone.

From the doorway into the armoury, Caspian watched as Peter strode down the corridor then around a corner. Peter walked with his head held high and no sign of the unease he knew Peter felt. A general couldn't show any uncertainty in front of his men.

That in mind, Caspian squared his shoulders and headed in the other direction.

He followed the tunnels as they wound towards the back of the How. Lucy and Susan would be there soon enough and he needed to get Destrier ready so that they could make their escape and find Aslan. They needed to find Aslan quickly rose else they run the risk of losing Peter. Caspian knew that he'd destroy every last Telmarine and raze the castle to the ground if he lost Peter. Even knowing that he couldn't afford to be so selfish, Caspian still couldn't shake that secret desire.

"She's beautiful," Lucy enthused as Caspian jogged into the mouth of the large exit tunnel.

"He's also very strong and fast," Caspian said when he was close enough to touch Destrier's dark flank. "Destrier's served me well for many years. He'll see you safely to Aslan."

"I'm sure he will," Lucy agreed, smiling brightly without a hint of the fear that coursed through Caspian.

"I wish that I could send an escort with you, but we can't spare the man power," Caspian apologized as he lifted the saddle off the ground and shifted it onto Destrier's back. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Susan hovering in the shadows. Her features were pinched and she was scowling at him. He turned back to Lucy, smiling at her. "Still, I can't envision you in any better hands than with your sister."

"I'd rather go with you and Peter," Lucy whispered nervously.

Caspian smiled, trying his best to appear reassuring. "Your brother has enough trouble looking after himself. He'll need both Edmund and I to watch over him."

"And you'll keep him safe?"

"Everything within my power and more."

xxxxxxxxxx

Susan bit her tongue to keep from saying anything she'd regret later. She didn't approve of or understand what was going on between Peter and Caspian. She didn't want to. If they'd been back home in England and were caught, both of them would have been arrested. Or worse.

Instead, she silently mounted the warhorse behind Lucy. Whatever her feelings towards Caspian, Susan was confident that he would do what he could to keep Peter safe. He'd already kept her brother safe from Miraz once before and didn't doubt that he'd do it again. Susan only hoped that he wouldn't need to a second time.

"Good luck," Susan said quietly before nudging Destrier with her heels, urging the horse forward.

xxxxxxxxxx

The whole of the Telmarine army was looking on. Or at least that's what it felt like as they strode out of the How's main entrance. Beside him, Peter was utterly stoic with no sign of the uncertainty and fear Caspian himself could feel pounding in his veins at that moment. He desperately wanted to stop what was about to happen, but he couldn't. Not only would it bring about battle, but it would belittle Peter and his position as High King of Narnia. Even discounting the fact that no one had held the title in over one thousand years, once Peter's identity had become known among the Narnians, he'd been regarded with expressions akin to awe. Peter's legend had survived all the Telmarine's attempt to bury it and returned untarnished.

"Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea," Peter murmured, staring at the amassing army. There was no hesitation in his voice, just the sudden realization of the scale of what he was attempting to do.

"Overthrow the evil dictator, free the Narnians, nothing we haven't done in the past," Edmund said with just as much tense confidence as Peter.

Peter turned to him, a grim smile on his lips. Neither of them said anything. There was nothing that needed saying. Instead, they held each other's gaze for several long seconds and then Peter was moving away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could only stand, watching in the background, as Peter and Miraz fought.

Almost immediately, though, he received word from the scouts that a small group of Telmarine cavalrymen were riding towards the rear of the How. Even though he wanted to stay and ensure that Miraz didn't attempt anything untoward, Peter had others to watch over him. Susan and Lucy may have been formidable fighters in the past, but Caspian wasn't going to risk their lives.

With one final glance at the duel about to be fought in the in the ruins of the ancient pavilion, Caspian took off at a run towards the back of the How. Several of the Centaurs followed after him, waiting long enough for him to mount one of the horses, before they all galloped after Miraz's soldiers.

xxxxxxxxxx

Peter grunted as Miraz hit him in the sternum with the butt of his own sword. He scrabbled to try and catch hold of the hilt, wanting to wrench the sword from the Telmarine's grip. His gloved fingers managed to close around the blade, its sharp edges digging into the leather.

"Is this all you can manage, so-called king?" Miraz hissed, pressing his face up close.

Rather than wasting his breath speaking, Peter instead pulled hard with his left hand, yanking Miraz off balance. He twisted to the side as the Telmarine stumbled forward, tightening his grip on Rhindon. Peter attempted to turn Miraz's arm back on itself so that his hold on the sword would falter. Miraz's sudden cry was followed almost instantly by the Telmarine's fingers momentarily loosening. It lasted barely a second, but it was all the time Peter needed to tear his sword from Miraz's grasp.

Spinning away, Peter transferred the plain Telmarine blade to his left hand, holding Rhindon firm in his right.

"I was thinking something more like this," Peter gasped, his lips spreading in a brief parody of a smile.

He had no idea how long the duel had lasted, but his body had taken a battering. What Miraz lacked in finesse, he more than made up for in brute strength. The Telmarine was more of a brawler than a swordsman, striking him with fists and the flat of his blade as often as engaging in a proper fight.

With a wordless cry, Miraz charged at him, shield raised to lessen the effectiveness of the swords Peter held. Peter was forced backwards, his back colliding with one of the stone pillars. His breath escaped him in a gasp, but he kept his hold on Rhindon tight. The other sword, Miraz managed to pull from his hand.

Peter used Miraz's distraction as he attempted to get a proper grip on the sword, to slam the butt of his sword against the older man's temple. As Miraz staggered backwards, Peter kicked him hard in the gut. Miraz landed on his back and Peter was on him instantly, kneeling astride his chest with the tip of his blade pressed against his throat.

"Surrender."

"You'll have to kill me first," Miraz growled, leaning up into the blade. His smile was a frightening line of white teeth in the midst of his night black beard. "What's the matter, boy? Too much of a coward to take a life?"

Peter tensed, putting enough pressure on the blade to draw blood. Then he stopped.

"It's not mine to take."

Peter relaxed for the briefest of moments and almost missed it as Miraz's fingers closed around a piece of rubble, swinging it up towards his head. He leaned back in time to avoid most of the blow, the jagged stone instead sliding over his right cheek, leaving pain and dampness in its wake. And even though he tried to prevent it, his grip on Rhindon wavered, the point sliding over Miraz's throat. As it disappeared into the flesh, blood bubbled up from between Miraz's lips.

Death in battle wasn't something he was unaccustomed to, but Peter hadn't intended to kill Miraz during the battle. At least not unless it was absolutely necessary. He'd wanted Miraz to surrender. The pragmatic part of him that had ruled Narnia for many years insisted that there wouldn't have been peace while Miraz lived—as long as Miraz lived, the chance remained that he would try and regain control of the Telmarines. Killing him was the only thing that would ensure peace.

In battle, though, it was so much different.

"Peter, look out!"

At his brother's cry, Peter managed to roll to the side just in time to avoid the crossbow bolt that had been aimed at him. Scrambling to his feet, he half-stumbled, half-ran beyond the edge of the pavilion to where Edmund and Glenstorm stood waiting.

"I don't think they mean to follow the terms of the fight," Edmund said as he slipped an arm around Peter's waist to help steady him.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" he grunted, managing a brief smirk.

Caspian was on his other side then, arm looped around him. "Lucy got away safe," he said before Peter could even ask the question. "She's on her way to Aslan now."

Peter nodded his head, leaning into Caspian for a brief moment. "Thank you."

Caspian's breath was hot against his ear, nose pressed to his temple. He leaned into the touch, savouring the closeness and allowing it to revitalize him. In the moment, it was all they could do. All that could be allowed. Later, though, when the battle was over....

He only allowed himself that one moment before straightening. There were so many things going on, a battle to be fought, he couldn't afford any weakness right then. Not when they were so close to setting Narnia free once again.

The battle that followed seemed to take forever and no time at all. He stood at the frontline with Caspian and Edmund, leading the charge above, below, and on the glade itself. Their plan had been thoroughly plotted, using every advantage available to them. Yet still they were losing, overwhelmed by the sheer number of Telmarine soldiers. It wasn't until the trees came to life, vibrant and alive as they'd been during Narnia's Golden Age, and fought back.

Lucy had found Aslan.

She stood side by side with Aslan at the far end of the bridge at the Beruna ford looking every inch the avenging angel. Innocence and power wrapped up in such a small package. It was so easy to forget that she had been a glorious queen only a year ago in their timeline. All the physical reminders had vanished when they'd returned to England. Inside, however, she was still Queen Lucy the Pure.

As he stood shoulder to shoulder with Caspian, Peter couldn't help but wonder what honorific, if any, would be bestowed upon King Caspian X of Narnia. Hopefully, it wouldn't be anything as puffed up as "the Magnificent" since that was a very difficult one to live up to. One that Peter didn't believe he did justice to most of the time.

Right then, all that he really wanted to do was find a comfortable bed and sleep for a week. Preferably with Caspian by his side.

xxxxxxxxxx

Standing before Aslan, the Great Lion, Caspian felt utterly inadequate. His bloodline was responsible for the destruction of so much of Narnia. Even Cair Paravel, that grand citadel, hadn't escaped the Telmarine onslaught. The Narnians themselves had been driven to the brink, their survival something that was nothing short of miraculous given all that the Telmarine royal line had done to wipe them out. It was, by far, the most shameful part of their history. It was utter arrogance to think that Aslan would name him king now that Peter and the rest of the Pevensies had returned.

"There is no reason for you to be so uneasy," Aslan said, his voice soothing and benevolent. "You have my gratitude, Caspian, for all that you have done for Narnia and her people."

Caspian stared at Aslan in amazement. "But I am a Telmarine. My people are the reason all of their occurred."

"And now you have put it right. So, once again, a son of Adam will sit on the throne. A rightful king."

"Do you not mean 'kings', my lord?" Caspian asked the giant lion before he could call back the words. With the words out, he found that he couldn't stop the thoughts from flowing past his lips. "With the great kings and queens of old returned, would it not be better to return Narnia to their care?"

Aslan shifted his weight, the wind catching the silken hair of his mane. "The Golden Age has passed, and so has the reign of its kings and queens. You alone shall rule."

"I do not think I am ready," Caspian murmured, glancing quickly at Peter before returning his gaze to Aslan.

Though it was difficult to tell, he was almost certain that Aslan smiled then. "That is how I know you are ready."

Caspian struggled to find the words necessary to protest Aslan's decision. He wasn't ready. Narnia deserved so much better from its ruler than he could ever hope to deliver. Aslan allowed himself to be distracted by Lucy and Trumpkin, which gave Caspian and Peter a chance to disappear into the chaos that always followed the end of a battle.

There was still much that needed to be done, but they could afford a few minutes for themselves. He wanted to be able to see for himself that Peter was well. There was a small cut below his right eye and across the bridge of his nose, as well as a graze near his left eyebrow that he could see, but from the way Peter held himself, Caspian was sure there were other injuries hidden by his dark armour.

As soon as they were alone, away from the river, Peter slipped a hand behind his head, pulling him into a kiss. Caspian brought his gloved hands up to hold Peter's face, savouring the heat that he could feel even through the leather. Peter had survived the fight with Miraz and the battle that followed. Freeing the Narnians had always been his goal, but it would have been empty, for him at least, if Peter wasn't there with him at the end.

"Are you all right?" Peter demanded as he lightly touched the edge of the cut that Caspian could feel above his right eye. Peter drew his hand back, tugging his glove off with his teeth, then returned it to his face.

Caspian turned into his touch, smiling in relief. He leaned in, kissing Peter again when words failed him. He was content to simply breathe in Peter's presence, relieved in the fact that both of them had survived. The armour made their embrace that much more difficult, but simply being able to breath in his scent calmed him immeasurably.

There was so much that still needed to be done. Even though Miraz had still been defeated, Narnia was still in chaos. The Telmarines and the Narnians had been enemies for centuries, it would be impossible for them to suddenly be able to co-exist peacefully. It would take time to arrange peace between the two peoples who now inhabited Narnia, the bad blood and mistrust long standing.

"There's no need for you to be concerned with my well being, you are the one who has fought in both battles," Caspian murmured, his lips moving lightly over Peter's cheek as he spoke.

Peter shrugged, pulling back so that he could see Caspian's face. "Even so, it only takes a stray blow or arrow to end a man's life. There was always the chance that one or both of us could have died today."

"And yet here we both stand, alive and well."

"Alive and well."

xxxxxxxxxx

The coronation was full of pomp and ceremony, just as his own had been, just as he was sure every coronation throughout time and in both of their worlds. The crown that was placed on Caspian's head was more gaudy than elegant, all the more out of place set against the cuts and bruises Caspian bore from the battle. And while Caspian may have fiddled endlessly with the collar of his brocade shirt, the people were shouting and cheering at the sight of their new king. Caspian was regal, every inch the king he was born to be.

"You look utterly terrified," Peter grinned, smoothing Caspian's dark hair from his face. They were in a secluded balcony, enjoying a few quiet moments away from the dancing and celebration going on in the main hall.

Caspian leaned back against the stone rail and glanced up briefly at the stars that glittered overhead. The sky was cloudless, a full moon hovering high above the castle. Everything was glowing in that moonlight, even the darkest crevices of the mountains. Caspian was no exception.

"I am a Telmarine, we are stronger than that," Caspian insisted even as he leaned into Peter's comforting touch.

Peter smiled fondly at the other man when he began to pout. "I'm not speaking of your strength as a soldier. However, facing a room full of dignitaries can be quite a daunting task. I myself never quite got used to it after more than a decade."

"I keep forgetting that you're older than you appear." Caspian reached his hand up to twine his fingers with Peter's, drawing it down from his cheek. He turned their hands over, tracing absent patterns on the palm of Peter's hand. "I can't imagine what it must be like to be a man trapped in a boy's body."

"Best not to," Peter smirked, squeezing Caspian's fingers briefly. "I at least fared better than Edmund. When we returned to England, his voice was once again flittering between high and low. He spent the first few months squeaking more than actually speaking."

With everything they'd been through together, there was still very little that they actually knew about one another. Secluded on that balcony, away from the controlled chaos going on in the main hall, they were finally able to actually talk. Between wine and trays of food that one of them would occasionally sneak out into the main hall to collect, the two sat leaning against the stone rail, talking all through the night, until the sky began to brighten.

Yawning, Peter shifted a bit against the unyielding stone, the cushions Caspian had pilfered having stopped being comfortable several hours before. They probably would have gone inside hours ago accept neither of them had really wanted to go inside. It was cool on the balcony and no one had bothered them since they'd made their escape. The fact that they'd remained secluded for so long was rather surprising. Not even the servants and come to bother them or collect any of the half dozen bottles and trays that were scattered across the balcony.

"Why are we sitting out here?" Peter asked, shifting his shoulders to release the building tension.

Caspian laughed quietly, wiggling about in a most unkingly way on his cushion. "Because we had too much wine and somehow thought we were comfortable."

Heaving himself up rather awkwardly, Peter continued to stretch the kinks out of muscles. He reached a hand down to help Caspian up, drawing the other man into his arms.

"I feel like an old man," Caspian groaned, dropping his head down onto Peter's shoulder. "Sitting on the ground shouldn't be so uncomfortable."

Peter pressed his lips to Caspian's temple, grinning. "It really shouldn't."

Caspian pulled back, grabbing hold of Peter's hand and guiding him back indoors. "I know a way we can remedy that."

Following the Telmarine's lead, Peter was led deep into the castle. Through corridors and down staircases until they were down in the bowels of the castle where usually only servants traversed. He didn't know where exactly they were going and Caspian was being very secretive about their destination. Peter would have felt uneasy were it not for the sheer delight in Caspian's expression. Wherever they were headed, it wouldn't be the dank underground dungeon he'd been locked in only a few days before.

After a certain point, there was no longer any torches lighting the way. Caspian took hold of the final one, wrenching it out of the bracket that held it in place. The small circle of light gave everything an eerie glow that reminded Peter of being down in the bomb shelter behind his family's home.

"Where exactly are we going?" Peter asked once again as they began to walk down a long, doorless corridor. "I feel like a mouse in a maze."

Caspian smirked, glancing at him over his shoulder. "I promise you, the cheese at the centre of this maze is more than worthwhile."

What Peter had thought was a turn in the hallway ended up being a small alcove with a door. The door was a heavy wooden one, no doubt as old as the castle. There was no hint whatsoever about what was hidden behind it. It could have been a treasure room or a secure prison room. Peter felt a little uneasy as Caspian forced the door open, but swallowed it down. Caspian wouldn't do anything to put him in danger.

There was a staircase carved out of the bedrock, twisting down into the darkness beyond. The walls and stairs were damp, shining in the light from Caspian's torch. A thick rope, fastened to the wall at two meter intervals, acted as a handrail and helped to keep them steady as they slowly made their way deeper into the darkness.

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Caspian darted forward quickly, taking the light with him. Peter stopped dead, his eyes straining to follow the small beam of light that was Caspian. Not knowing if there were any obstacles, Peter stayed were he was, jumping slightly as a long stream of flame burst into life low on the wall. Like the main chamber in the How, a low trench filled with fuel ran along the length of the room, lighting the underground room.

"What is this place?" Peter marvelled, staring at the large, underground room. There was nothing ornate about the space, a few stone benches, and niches carved into the wall. It was the centre of the room, though, that caught Peter's attention.

"This is the perk of being a Telmarine king."

The smell of the sulphur and the heat from the hot spring filled the room. Peter's clothes were already beginning to stick to his skin so he followed Caspian's example and began to strip down. The muscles in his shoulders and back twinged as he leaned down to remove his boots. His body had taken quite a battering over the past few days and he wanted nothing more than to slip into the enticing hot water and relax his tense muscles.

As Peter stood up, a pair of arms slipped around him from behind, hands settling at the fastening of his trousers. Peter leaned back against Caspian's chest, turning his head to press his lips against Caspian's jaw as the newly crowned king tugged at the lacing of his trousers. His own hands were far from idle, reaching back to skim his fingers over the waistband of Caspian's pants, tugging them down slightly.

"This is what Cair Paravel was missing," Peter murmured, turning so that he was facing Caspian. He kept his hands at Caspian's waist, his fingertips brushing over the soft skin below his navel.

"When Cair Paravel is rebuilt, I intend to keep this as a retreat for the two of us," Caspian said against the side of Peter's jaw. "We will need a place we can escape to."

"You're planning on keeping me?" Peter asked, amused. "What will your future queen say?"

Caspian shrugged, his lips sliding back to Peter's lips. "I have no interest in a queen. I would much rather rule side by side with you. Narnia and Telmar united together."

"The two lands cannot be united in such a way."

The two of them startled apart, whirling about to face Aslan who stood at the side of the hot spring. The lion appeared even more awe inspiring lit by the flickering flames that illuminated the room.

"Peter and his siblings must return to their own world at dusk," Aslan said, padding gracefully towards them. "There is no longer any reason for them to remain."

Peter staggered away from Caspian, the shock of Aslan's announcement catching him entirely off guard. Peter had half-feared that he would be forced to return to England a second time, he just hadn't realized that it would be so soon and so definite.

"What if we refuse?" Peter managed to say without his voice wavering. "I don't know about the others, but Narnia is my home. This is where I belong."

"Narnia was never meant to be your home," Aslan told him, the benevolence in his voice grating.

Before Peter could rouse a protest, Caspian jumped to his defence. "Peter risked his life to save Narnia and you would reward him with exile?" He stood shoulder to shoulder with Peter, his fingers automatically twisting with Peter's. "Why bring the Pevensies back if you would be so quick to send them home?"

"What was done was done for Narnia."

It was utterly pragmatic, something expected of a ruler, but not something Peter had ever expected to hear from Aslan. The Great Lion had always given Peter the impression of putting Narnia's well being before his own. And while Peter had done the same during his reign as High King, it had been at his discretion, not someone else's.

"If this is the Narnia you wish to create, I want nothing to do with it. Peter's sacrifice is meant to be honoured, not shunted aside and forgotten. I will not be a part of that," Caspian announced, squeezing Peter's fingers briefly.

Peter returned the gesture then took a few steps away from Caspian and closer to Aslan. "I would have defended Narnia, without the hope of being allowed to stay, if you'd asked. Narnia will always be my home and I would die to protect her. I just don't understand why there was the need for deception. If we'd known that we were not meant to stay then...."

Peter couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. It would have been a lie. Peter doubted that there was anything that would have prevented what existed between him and Caspian. What he felt went beyond lust, but to simply call it love seemed almost to demean it.

"The fault of that is mine," Aslan admitted, surprising Peter. "I had not thought that such a bond would exist between you and Caspian, only that you would help Caspian reach his full potential."

"And that justifies sending Peter away?" Caspian demanded, his anger no longer quite so evident. "I'm sorry, Great Aslan, but I do not see the logic in your thoughts."

Aslan inclined his massive head briefly, his lips seeming to quirk in a benevolent smile. As much as a lion could smile. "You will find, young king, that logic does not always dictate the actions necessary to preserve peace."

"Then, to preserve the peace, allow Peter to stay," Caspian pleaded, dropping to his knees. "I beseech you, do not exile him. He is Narnia, every bit as much as you are. Twice now he has bought this land back from the brink and I do not think she will survive a third time without his presence."

Peter could only stare at Caspian in amazement. No one had ever spoken about him with such passion. Without intending to, he found himself down on his knees alongside Caspian, his body angled towards the newly crowned king. He would have gathered Caspian close to him, kissed him most soundly, had Aslan not been there.

There was a long silence before Aslan spoke again.

"The Deep Magics of Narnia will decide Peter's fate."

Without further parting words, Aslan turned, disappearing into the shadows and mists of the cavern. Peter sank back on his heels, all of the energy drained from him, and drew Caspian into his arms. The two of them sat in the sputtering torchlight, not saying anything for a long time.

It was Caspian who finally brought them back to the present, turning his head to press a kiss to the corner of Peter's jaw. Peter leaned into him, squeezing Caspian briefly as he tried to wake himself up from the fog that had consumed him when Aslan left.

"Does this mean that I get to stay?" Peter murmured against Caspian's shoulder, wishing for all the world that he didn't sound like a nervous child.

Caspian said nothing, leaning back deeper into Peter's embrace. Instead, after one more moment wrapped around each other, Caspian slid himself from Peter's arms and rose to his feet. He silently shucked the remainder of his royal finery, his features soft as he gazed down at Peter.

"Come."

xxxxxxxxxx

The heat of the water and the tranquil setting did a great deal to ease the visible tension in Peter. His blonde hair flickered gold in the torchlight, slicked back against his skull. When Peter dipped under the water again, all his skin glittered, making him look like a young god emerging from the depths of the underworld.

His god.

His lover.

His everything.

Living in close quarters in the How allowed him the chance to see Peter as a man rather than the myth he'd always been. Still, even knowing how fragile and human Peter actually was, there were still times that Caspian had trouble forgetting that Peter wasn't a mere dream of the Great King who'd lived so long ago. That Peter was real and so very much alive. Bobbing forward in the chest-deep water, Caspian raised his left hand to cup Peter's cheek, his thumb stroking the full underside of his bottom lip. Peter's eyes were half-lidded as he smiled, pressing a kiss to the pad of Caspian's thumb.

"You keep staring at me like I'm some sort of puzzle you're trying your best to figure out," Peter murmured, his hand moving beneath the water to stroke Caspian's side lightly.

"Not so much a puzzle as a gift. One for which I am very grateful."

Peter ducked his head down, his cheeks flushing more than what would be caused by steam from the pool. "I can hardly be considered a gift. During day to day life I'm quite certain that we'll drive each other mad with all the trivialities of kingship. There were many days that I would have gladly rung Edmund's neck."

"I imagine what we'll have far more enjoyable ways to deal with our disagreements," Caspian promised him.

Peter's arms slid around his waist, drawing their bodies closer. The water made his arms slick, sliding against his skin as quickly as a snake would. Peter's hand spread across his back, holding him securely against him. Caspian draped his free arm across Peter's shoulders, grinning as he leaned in to press against his lover's lips. Peter returned the kiss enthusiastically, drawing Caspian closer to the edge where there was a ledge dug into the wall. Caspian was somewhat surprised when Peter turned them so that it was Caspian who sat on the ledge and not Peter. He tried to say something, make a protest, but Peter silenced him with a kiss. Placing his hands on Caspian's shoulders, Peter climbed up onto the ledge, straddling his lap. He loomed over Caspian, grinning and golden.

"If they want me to leave you, they'll have to forcibly drag me back," Peter swore, leaning down to kiss him quite thoroughly. "I will never leave you willingly."

Caspian nearly toppled them both as he surged upwards, deepening the kiss. No one in his life had ever offered him such devotion. Cornelius had loved him, but that was the love of a father, or as close to it as he would ever come. Peter had no reason to love him, by all rights they should have been enemies. Caspian didn't understand it and had no desire to question it. He only knew that he loved Peter just as much.

Peter laughed at Caspian's sudden exuberance, latching onto the wall to keep them from falling back into the water. "Careful, there. I'd really rather not drown, if it's all the same to you."

"Right. No drown—" Caspian's voice trailed off in a gasp as Peter's hands once again slipped below the water. The callused fingertips drifted down his torso, swirling lightly around his navel before wrapping around his member. "Peter!"

"Yes?"

The smug expression on Peter's face brought a smirk to his own. His retaliation was to walk his fingers from where they rested near the small of Peter's back, further down past his tailbone and into the crease of his buttocks. Peter groaned, arching against him, as Caspian slid the pads of his fingers over his opening. Nervous at first, Caspian found his fears eased by Peter's broad smile and the warmth visible in his eyes. Though he was the one giving himself to Caspian, Peter was utterly sure in his actions. As the one receiving, Peter would have been looked down upon by other Telmarines, seen of as weak for allowing another man to enter his body. There was certainly nothing weak about Peter then. As they moved against each other, Caspian could find nothing weak or unmanly about Peter. Strength radiated from the other man. Strength and an innate power that threatened to consume him.

Later, exhausted, the two of them barely made it up to Caspian's bed chamber before falling into a deep sleep.

Caspian was the first to awake, the angle of the sun shining in through the balcony door indicating that it was mid-afternoon. He cursed silently, not having meant to stay asleep so long. It was possibly Peter's last day in Narnia and they had wasted most of it sleeping. Even knowing that their time together might be limited, Caspian didn't immediately wake Peter. Some illogical part of his brain was convinced that if Peter wasn't awake, he couldn't be sent back to England. He would miss the other Pevensies, but Peter was essential to him. He would not give him up. Aslan had claimed that he would leave Peter's fate in the hands of the magics that governed Narnia, but those same magics were intimately tied to Aslan himself. If he so desired it, Peter would be gone.

"You worry far too loudly," Peter grumbled, still mostly asleep.

"You do not fear what could come in a but a few hours time?" Caspian asked, shocked by Peter's seeming nonchalance. He stammered, unable to form a coherent thought to bring to words. Caspian lifted himself up on his elbows, staring down at his lover in disbelief.

Peter raised his left hand, holding it to Caspian's cheek. "I fear it well enough, but from experience I know that my fear will amount to nothing. What will happen, happens whether I fear its outcome or not. So instead I hope. Hope that when night falls I will remain by your side."

"I wish it, too," Caspian sighed against his palm. "So very much."

"Then we will hold onto those hopes until they come true."

Caspian wished that he could have the unwavering confidence that Peter did. It was something that he suspected came from years of being a king. To Caspian, being a king didn't even feel real yet. Perhaps one day it would but, at the moment, all he knew was that the one person who'd ever really been his, the only person who'd ever really loved him for him, might very well be taken away from him in a few hours. All Caspian wanted to do was scream and shout and demand of whoever would listen that Peter be allowed to remain in Narnia.

"Come, we'd best get up. There's much to do before the sun goes down," Peter murmured, smiling with a calmness that Caspian didn't feel.

As much as he wanted to delay the inevitable, Caspian knew that Peter was right and reluctantly rose from his bed. He remained near the bed, watching as Peter stretched and twisted about, seemingly unconcerned about his nakedness. Caspian himself certainly didn't mind. It was a moment he planned to lock away within his mind, to memorize in case the worst should happen.

"I am aware that you're staring at me. You do know that, right?" Peter chuckled as he swiped his pants up from where they'd fallen on the ground. They were wrinkled beyond wearing, but Peter slipped them on regardless. He left his pants unfastened as he returned to the bed where Caspian still lingered. Resting one knee on the bed, Peter leaned forward to catch Caspian's lips in a lingering kiss. Peter remained hovering over him, their foreheads and noses touching. "If this is to be our last day together, I want to enjoy all the time that we are allowed."

Caspian nodded his head, his lips brushing against his lover's. "Then that is what we shall do."

A short while later, dressed in trousers and loose tunics, the two of them sat on the balcony that extended from Caspian's rooms eating a light lunch. They lingered over the meal, sprawled over the couch that sat in the shade from an overhead balcony. Caspian couldn't remember the last time he'd been so at ease.

"You should enjoy this while you can," Peter said as he lifted a goblet of wine to his lips. He took a healthy swallow before continuing. "Very rarely is there a celebration important and expansive enough to put the entire court out of a contention for the day. There will be very few days that will belong purely to you."

"Purely to us," Caspian corrected him.

"Purely to us."

Picking an apple up from the table, Peter managed to take only a single bite before there was a discreet cough from behind them. Glancing towards the arched entrance, they saw Lucy standing there, waving shying at them.

"Sorry, but Aslan asked me to find you. He needs all of the Telmarines within the palace to gather in the large side courtyard and he wants to talk to you, Peter. You and Susan."

It had come sooner than they'd expected, but not without surprise. Peter sighed deeply, paused, then rose to his feet. He passed the apple to Caspian, a tight smile on his lips.

"So it begins."

xxxxxxxxxx

"We'll go," Peter says, startling the gathered crowd into silence.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see Caspian tense. He wanted to look back at the other man, to reassure him, but he dared not distract the Telmarines' attention. Taking a deep breath, Peter stepped forward, separating himself from the rest.

"We'll go through and return to our own land and time."

It was only when his siblings began to say their goodbyes to the other gathered on the raised section of the courtyard that Peter allowed himself to turn towards Caspian. The moment his eyes locked on Caspian's own dark ones, the confidence that had guided his actions so far disappeared. It was entirely possible that he and Caspian had only a few minutes left.

Steeling himself, he walked slowly towards Narnia's newly crowned king. He stopped with a few steps remaining between them, fearful that if he got too close that he would never release Caspian.

"I will remain," Peter whispered, trying his utmost to offer a confident smile. "I will not be snatched away."

"I pray that you are right."

Breaking his eyes away from Caspian's, Peter reached down to where his sword was belted at his hips. As much as he wanted to believe that Narnia would not allow him to be snatched away a second time, he wouldn't chance Rhindon being lost a second time. Besides, as king, Caspian deserved to be the one to wield the power that it represented.

Once Susan, Lucy and Edmund had said their farewells, Peter turned towards the arched trees. He shared one last fleeting glance with Caspian before stepping forward. In front of him Edmund slipped through first, returning to England.

Susan followed moments later.

Then Lucy.

Taking a deep breath, Peter closed his eyes and stepped forward.

One step. Then another.

The winds that he expected to start tearing at his clothing didn't rise up. There was only a gentle breeze.

A third step.

"Peter!"

He stopped short, staring at the open air before him. A single step more would have sent him tumbling over the edge of the cliff. Peter stood gasping at the edge of that cliff, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in his throat.

He was still in Narnia. He hadn't been banished from his home.

"Peter!"

Caspian's excited shout came from just over his shoulder and he turned just in time to be engulfed in a crushing embrace.

"Caspian."

Stumbling and staggering, they managed to get themselves away from the edge of the courtyard and back onto safer ground. Behind them was chaos as the remaining Telmarines demanded to know what was going on. Peter was aware the he and Caspian should have been the ones to acknowledge what had just happened, but Peter couldn't form the necessary words.

"The Deep Magic that governs Narnia has chosen to allow High King Peter to remain longer," Aslan spoke over the frenzied voices.

"I can stay," Peter gasped as Caspian's lips crashed down on his.

Whatever decisions the remaining Telmarines would make didn't matter to Peter. Those that chose to stay behind rather than return to their own lands would be welcome so long as they treated the Narnians with the respect they deserved. He felt a slight pang of regret for the fact that his brother and sisters hadn't been permitted to remain in Narnia, but Aslan had assured him that Lucy and Edmund, at least, would return. He would see them again.

Until then he had Caspian.

Not just for the intervening time, but for the rest of his life.

When they finally did fall apart, Caspian took a half step back. Peter found himself instinctively reaching for the other man, his fingers brushing against the sleeve of his tunic. Caspian's arm moved before he could grasp him. In his hands, Caspian was holding Rhindon out towards him.

Rather than take sole possession of the blade, Peter closed his hand over Caspian's where it gripped the hilt. Turning his body to the side, he raise their joined hands and Rhindon. Old and New Narnia joined together.

A new golden age begun.


End file.
